


Summer Nights

by henrywinters



Category: VIXX
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, M/M, but very light, horror themes in general, mentions of gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-02
Updated: 2017-10-02
Packaged: 2019-01-08 08:05:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12250359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/henrywinters/pseuds/henrywinters
Summary: [Hongbin] runs a finger over the razor tips of all Taekwoon's teeth, cutting his finger and not wincing once. “[you're] the scariest boy I know.”





	Summer Nights

**Author's Note:**

> written for #TaekBintober on twitter. a short drabble ~ not at all like my usual work. i'm nervous and slightly embarrassed of this, but there is really no better way than to describe it as: retro vamp boyfriends just living life, being vamps.

Hongbin tells Taekwoon the boy on the floor is named James and Taekwoon can't figure out for the life of him why Hongbin had brought home an American boy, but it doesn't matter because the American is dead on the floor, bleeding out on the carpet.

 

“He isn't on the carpet,” Hongbin says. “He's very _near_ the carpet, but he isn't rightfully on it.”

 

“Might as well be,” Taekwoon says, staring down at the body.

 

Hongbin had always been clean when he fed and did his work well and tonight is no exception. But the blood is very red and has started to clot and Taekwoon can't stand the smell of it so near twilight. Anxiety spikes ugly in the pit of his empty belly and he wonders if Hongbin had done this on purpose.

 

“An American,” Taekwoon says, chuckling. “You've always had a lousy taste in men.”

 

“You can't say that. It isn't true.”

 

“It's very true.”

 

“What about you?” he stage-whispers. “Are you a lousy pick as well?”

 

“The worst. I'm absolutely terrible.”

 

“You can't say that either,” Hongbin says, smiling. He's beautiful when he smiles; all his teeth blunt and pretty and the color of lightning. “You aren't terrible at all.”

 

“There are about a dozen men who think otherwise.”

 

“Probably,” Hongbin says. “But not me, no. I don't think you're terrible. I think you're lovely.”

 

Taekwoon can't keep from smiling then. It's an awful feeling, trying to feign disinterest when Hongbin so easily controls all the feelings inside him. He crosses the room and steps over the boy on the floor to kiss Hongbin's cheek. He smells of sweat and Burberry, the faintest bit of blood.

 

“Are you going to clean this up? Because you need to before the sun rises.”

 

Already, the sky begins to lighten.

 

“I'll do it,” Hongbin assures. “When I'm done.” And he holds up the copy of _Starlog_ he had been reading. Then he offers a smile and turns the page and leans back in the sofa with his knees to his chest so that he looks small, like a boy. Taekwoon's heart leaps and then settles.

 

“You're lucky I love you,” Taekwoon tells him, because he knows Hongbin won't clean up the body and he won't bleed him out either. He'll leave him there until night when all the light of the city has settled and the body has started to stiffen.

 

So Taekwoon takes the boy by the arms and moves quickly through the house, out into the backyard that stretches large. There are no neighbors this far out of the city, where the ground is dust colored and the smell of the blooming trees wafts fragrant as a perfume. There is a pool there they never use and with all the water drained out, Taekwoon drops the body down into the depths where the smallest bit of rain water has collected. Then he takes the tarp from the garage and places it over the body and then goes inside.

 

“I'll finish it later,” he tells Hongbin. “But the next time you bring an American home, you're cleaning it up.”

 

Hongbin blows him a kiss and it all seems worth it then.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The next night, after Taekwoon has dismembered the American, he and Hongbin walk up the long driveway toward Sanghyuk's house. It's all dark and smells terribly of iron and as Hongbin pushes open the back door, Taekwoon finds the cause of the smell: a severed head in the sink floating in pinkish water. He stops and stares, pseudo-admiring it until Hongbin pulls him by the elbow toward the stairs.

 

They had agreed a long time ago—back when they still lived in LA—that they wouldn't hunt together anymore, because Taekwoon can't control himself when Hongbin takes boys to the bathroom and opens up their veins, sucks them dry; sometimes they even like it enough to ask him to do it again. It's when they ask for more that Taekwoon usually looses his shit. So they don't hunt together anymore.

 

Upstairs, Sanghyuk sits in the dark with a VR headset over his eyes. Neon lights flash hypnotic, kind of ugly, from the ceiling. He raises a hand when they step in the room and says, slowly, as if stoned: “How goes it?”

 

“Goes. . . well,” Taekwoon says.

 

“Take that stupid thing off,” Hongbin demands, lightly. He crosses the room and takes the headset and stands over Sanghyuk, leering with his eyes very dark, almost angry. “How do you live like this?”

 

Taekwoon takes in the room. Blood stained sheets lay across the floor where a bag drips something—possibly blood, but probably not—thick as syrup onto the sheets. Carnage everywhere, smelling sweet and sour all at once. Taekwoon hasn't ate in two days and he stares down at the soiled garments with a frenzy burning under his skin.

 

“Pig,” he hears Hongbin say.

 

Sanghyuk laughs and shoves Hongbin away—hard, but he barely moves. Then he rises to his feet and towers over Hongbin by half a foot. Doesn't help he's wearing Doc Martens that give him a lift. But either way, he'd be taller.

 

“You come to be a bastard, Hongbin?” he grins. “Fuck off, won't you?”

 

Taekwoon stops listening then. He's following the stains on the floor that lead to a room with a door standing partly open and when he pushes his head inside, he's overpowered by the smell of gore.

 

Humans smell a certain way when cut open. It is this smell that washes through him.

 

Taekwoon closes the door. “The fuck you keep around here, Hyukie?”

 

“Things.”

 

“Are we leaving?” Hongbin asks. He's shifting his weight from one foot to the other, looking really upset, like maybe the smell of all the blood and the gore and the severed head in the sink is getting to him.

 

“Mellow out,” Sanghyuk tells him. “Just mellow out, man.”

 

They leave a few minutes later after Sanghyuk has warned Taekwoon of the booby traps and the chainsaws and to stay out the basement because— _It's totally fucked up down there, hyung, just stay out alright?—_ and he doesn't seem to be joking, so Taekwoon takes his word for it and stays out.

 

But he goes upstairs, back to the bedroom and the room with the terrible smell and turns on the light. A part of him wishes he hadn't done it, because there's a boy there all tied up and passed out, but alive and he's bleeding heavily from some place under his clothes—probably his chest, right over his heart. Sanghyuk has a mutilation problem, Taekwoon knows. He stands there, watching this guy die, feeling strange and out of body. He decides to leave and turns out the light and sits on the patio out back where the world looks a little ugly, all burned out, with no grass on the lawns and the sky a deep blue, not nearly as black as it ought to be. He keeps staring out at nothing. Just nothing.

 

Then he calls Jaehwan. The butcher's son. He always has fresh meat, sometimes still bleeding, and he can get to it at any time; so Taekwoon calls him and tells him to bring him a couple cutlets, because he doesn't feel like going out tonight. He's tired. He's annoyed. He's cranky and he wants food.

 

“You didn't say how much you wanted,” Jaehwan says when he arrives. “So I brought a few.”

 

He hands Taekwoon a bag that weighs something like 5 pounds, filled with meat raw and bloody. It takes everything Taekwoon has to keep from tearing into them.

 

He pays in cash, then sits on the curb outside Sanghyuk's house under dim street lamps and starts gnawing on a steak. Jaehwan sits beside him, smoking a Parliament, talking about his boyfriend.

 

“He doesn't believe me about you,” he says. “He says vampires aren't real. He just thinks you're a fucking weirdo.”

 

“I _am_ a fucking weirdo,” Taekwoon says, smiling, with blood in his teeth.

 

“I wish he believed me.”

 

“Why's that?”

 

But Jaehwan doesn't answer.

 

Taekwoon keeps eating and looks out across the neighborhood. But it isn't really a neighborhood. Just a bunch of empty houses, built for the influx of foreigners. Too far from the city, no one wants to live here, so it's empty and strange, like being in another world, and Taekwoon's unnerved by it.

 

“Are you busy tonight?” he asks Jaehwan. And when Jaehwan tells him no: “Wanna catch a movie?”

 

So they go into the city and the cinema is showing a late showing of some terrible 80's flick that is totally stupid, but Taekwoon agrees to go because there's nothing else to do. And in the front row, he thinks about killing Jaehwan just for the hell of it, but he knows he won't do it, so he shuts up and watches the movie.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sanghyuk calls close to dawn screaming over the line that Hongbin's all fucked up, really fucked up, and Taekwoon needs to get a cab and come into the city _now_.

 

He arrives sometime close to 6 and the sky is so light it burns Taekwoon's eyes to look at it. But he can't feel the pain because he's too startled by the sight of Hongbin by the road, puking torrents of blood into the gutters.

 

“What the _fuck_ did you do to him?” Taekwoon screams. He can feel his teeth coming out and his whole face changing. His eyes burn and his skin burns and he feels like death as he tries to corral Hongbin into the car.

 

Sanghyuk swears, sweat streaking his face, that it wasn't his fault. “Some fucking guy in the bar, alright? He was high on something. Fucking coked out, I don't know. It was in his blood and Hongbin got a taste of it, started puking everywhere. Fucking gore fest in there.”

 

Taekwoon doesn't have time to keep listening. He shoves Sanghyuk away and tells him to fuck off and then tells the cabbie, who has made it clear by now that he won't look Taekwoon in the eye—not even when he pays him—, the address of the house. Then he leaves Sanghyuk by the road as Hongbin lays his head in his lap, moaning with blood bubbling from the sides of his mouth.

 

Taekwoon leans down and smells his mouth and can smell the heroin in the blood and he sits back up and curses to himself with a hand running through the back of Hongbin's hair, feeling him shiver.

 

It isn't his fault and he knows it, but he has to keep telling himself this as he carries Hongbin from the cab into the house and then to the bathroom where he cleans him up, wiping the blood from his face and taking off all his clothes. Then he puts Hongbin in his coffin and tells him, though he's certain Hongbin can't really hear him, that he'll sleep alone tonight, because he doesn't want to crowd Hongbin. He just wants him to get better.

 

The sun rises and the light burns through all the open windows, but Taekwoon sits on the sofa drinking a TAB with his shirt off and his skin burning. He calls Sanghyuk even though he's still pissed off and a part of him wants to bite off all the fingers on both Sanghyuk's hands, but he's worried too, so he calls.

 

“Making sure you got home,” he says when Sanghyuk answers.

 

“I'm fine. Alive.”

 

“So am I.”

 

“And Hongbin?” Sanghyuk asks.

 

“So is he.”

 

Taekwoon hangs up and goes to bed.

 

 

 

 

 

 

"I ate all your steaks," Hongbin says the next night.

 

He's sitting at the dining table in a FOOTLOOSE shirt with the sleeves cut off and a pair of RayBan sunglasses. Taekwoon smiles.

 

“There's a song that goes something like that,” he says, pointing at the RayBan's. “Really awful 80's song. You know it?”

 

“Fuck off.”

 

“I think you know it.”

 

Hongbin throws a cigarette that bounces off Taekwoon's chest and lays like something dead on the floor. Taekwoon chuckles and picks it up.

 

“Are you feeling any better?”

 

“No,” Hongbin says.

 

Taekwoon comes to stand beside him with his hand on Hongbin's shoulder, crouched down so he can look him in the face. His skin is pale, his lips cracked and looking terrible. He touches Hongbin's cheek and feels nothing but burning fever.

 

“Gotta be careful,” Taekwoon soothes. “Maybe you shouldn't hunt in the bars anymore.”

 

“It was a club.”

 

“Even worse.”

 

Hongbin's mouth twitches. “You didn't sleep with me last night.”

 

“No, I didn't.”

 

“You should have slept with me.”

 

Taekwoon touches Hongbin's cheek, then pushes the hair off his forehead. He takes the sunglasses and takes in the red tint of Hongbin's eyes. They shine black as beetles in his pallid face, partway human but mostly not.

 

“I can't make them go back to normal,” he confesses. “They're all. . . fucked up.”

 

“They're fine.” Taekwoon kisses him then, slowly. Then he takes Hongbin's hand and pulls him to the sofa and turns on the television. The Jetsons are on.

 

“We're gonna be normal tonight,” he tells Hongbin. “Ordinary people.”

 

“You can go out,” Hongbin says. “I won't mind. I'll wait here for you and I won't mind at all, I promise.”

 

Taekwoon pretends to not have heard him.

 

They turn out all the lights and keep the windows closed so that all the light comes from the television; and the walls glow blue in the dark as Hongbin presses himself into Taekwoon's side.

 

Later, after they have slipped into the coffin—a custom made piece, big enough to fit them both, with a flat-screen mounted into the lid and a LaserDisc player built into the side—Taekwoon holds Hongbin to his chest and stares at him in the dark, feeling giddy and tired and wanting to kiss him.

 

Hongbin whispers to him, “You look scary in the dark,” because Taekwoon's eyes have changed. The eyelids have receded and his pupils glow yellow, like distant headlights on a perpetually dark stretch of road.

 

“Am I scarier now?” Taekwoon whispers, letting out his teeth.

 

“Yes,” Hongbin says. “Much scarier.” He runs a finger over the razor tips of all Taekwoon's teeth, cutting his finger and not wincing once. “The scariest boy I know.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> come talk to me any time ~
> 
> [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/Iovleo) / [twitter](https://twitter.com/lustfortaekwoon)


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